


'cause i'm lightning on my feet

by defcontwo



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 11:01:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2426339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defcontwo/pseuds/defcontwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky just wants to run out to the nearest CVS to buy some lube. Naturally, that's when the Nazis attack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'cause i'm lightning on my feet

The toe of Bucky's boot catches a Neo-Nazi skinhead clear across the chin, sending blood spraying across the dirty grey linoleum floor of CVS and it is a violent, gruesome image but all Bucky can think is, this errand was only supposed to take ten minutes tops. He was in the middle of Words with Friends with Sharon and he's got lasagna in the oven and of all the drug stores in the entire District of Columbia, these fuckers had to walk into his. 

"I just wanted to buy some goddamn lube, you know," he tells the prone, bleeding body at his feet. 

He gets a prolonged, miserable groan in reply. 

Goddamn useless Nazis. 

\- 

The future for Bucky is -- well, mostly he'll admit that it's a little on the bemusing side. 

In a good way, though, like how now he only has to walk five minutes from their apartment to get to a place where he can buy enough donuts in one full swoop to hold over not just one but two super soldiers. He doesn't like credit cards, doesn't like that they create a digital paper trail, a pathway of his life from A to B to C and so the server waits patiently as Bucky counts out the cash with quick, deft fingers and anyways, he's always liked the sound of coins jingling in his pocket. 

It reminds him of before the draft, when a little extra coin in his pocket meant he did a good job at work that day, meant he could walk a little lighter and stop at the market on his way home to get the cheap house wine that Mrs. Cosentino made herself. He's tried a lot of reds in the past few months, some cheap, some not, all much better than that house wine but there's still an ache in his chest for the simplicity of that moment, of knowing that he'd done something well and so the universe, in its apparent infinite kindness, gave him back something good in return. 

Good like Steve's hand curling around his as they took a leisurely stroll to do some grocery shopping last weekend, hand in hand on a crowded DC street and the hell of it was, they weren't even the only ones doing it. 

But this? 

This, he's pretty sure falls solidly under the bemusing category. 

"Why the fuck are there so many different kinds of lube, Steve?" Bucky says into the receiver of his cellphone, not even waiting for Steve to say hello. The bright, fluorescent lights of CVS glare down onto him, reflecting off of the metal arm and Bucky shrugs the sleeves of his sweater forward unconsciously. 

"Uh." 

Bucky tucks the phone between his ear and his shoulder and reaches out to pull a box down from the shelf, eyebrows drawing together as he squints at the tiny print. "Organic? Do we want organic lube? I don't know how I feel about our lube havin' something in common with our apples." 

"Bucky, I'm kind of in the middle of a, uh -- " 

"A congressional hearing, yeah. I know that, pal, just like how I know you've been sending me check-up texts for the past three hours straight like a great big flashing HELP ME sign because you don't want to admit you're bored. You're probably doodling in the margins of the official manila folder they gave you, huh?" 

Steve clears his throat guiltily. 

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Got any idea what a paraben is?" 

"No clue." 

Bucky shrugs. "Never mind, back of the box says it's better for women anyways. Oh, how about astroglide? That sounds….futuristic." 

"Bucky," Steve says, exasperated, "are you trying to get me to start blushing during a Congressional hearing? Is that what this is? Because it's not going to work."

"Nope," Bucky says, popping the p. "Told ya, I'm rescuing you from boredom. Trust me, if I was trying to make you start blushing, you'd know it. I'd probably start by telling you all about how I thought about sucking you off all throughout that movie we went to see last week." 

"You what? You mean you weren't paying attention to it at all?"

"That's the part you're sticking with, Rogers?" 

"No, it's just -- the animation was really impressive, that's all." 

Bucky shakes his head, fond. "And that's why all I did was think it. I know better than to get between my best guy and state of the art animation." 

"You're so considerate," Steve says dryly. 

"A true romantic," Bucky agrees. 

There's a creak and then a bang from the front of the store followed by a surge of chaotic, loud voices and Bucky flattens himself against the shelf reflexively, inching towards the front and doing a quick peek around the corner. There's a bunch of guys in their late twenties, all of them white with shaved heads and all of them dressed in A.I.M. uniforms, covered in tattoos that look just a touch too familiar for Bucky's liking. 

One of them, a guy towering over the others at about 6'3", 6'4", has a gun trained on the man behind the counter, an older man by the name of Pat that Bucky always says hi to when he comes here. Pat's dark, curly hair is threaded throughout with grey, he likes old music and sci-fi films and he never, ever stares at Bucky's arm the way so many people can't seem to help doing. 

Bucky likes Pat a lot. He likes seeing Pat with a gun to his head a whole lot less. 

"Son of a bitch. Hey, Steve, I gotta go, I've got a situation here." 

"Wait, what kind of situation -- " Steve starts but Bucky hangs up on him, slipping the phone inside his back pocket and reaching for the knife he keeps in his right boot, bringing it up before stepping out from behind the Halloween display he was crouched behind. 

"Point the gun away from the nice man and no one has to get hurt," Bucky says. 

"Who the fuck are you?" The big guy says. 

Bucky rolls his eyes and takes a step closer. "Give it a minute, you'll figure it out." 

"Holy shit," one of the others says, "it's Barnes. It's the Winter Soldier!" 

The big one curves his lips into a wide, nasty grin. "Looks like we're getting some money and getting some revenge today, boys." 

Pat, regardless of the gun pointed at his head, rolls his eyes. Bucky empathizes. 

"See, this pains me, it really does," Bucky says, stepping one foot after the other, placing himself in just the right position to kick the gun out of the big guy's hand. "Because people these days -- they have a tendency to tell themselves, despite the obvious evidence to the contrary that was a seventy-year long HYDRA plot, that people like you, they're all just idiots. Uneducated. No one likes to think that someone educated could be, I don't know, a white supremacist with a shitty tattoo because that means that it's not about ignorance, it's about willful hate. But since you are, what -- holding up a CVS in the middle of the day with black market guns and knock-off A.I.M. uniforms, my gut tells me that _you_ lot are -- " 

"Idiots?" Pat supplies helpfully. 

Bucky grins at him toothily. "Yep." 

"We blew all our money on some death-ray guns," one of the others pipes up from the back. 

"And they don't even fucking work," another says, this one skinny and short and looking a lot he's not even sure how he got here in the first place, breaking off to mutter under his breath. 

The big guy, clearly the leader, loses his patience with the situation and drops his gun away from Pat to lunge forward at Bucky and he is all brute strength, every inch of his body telegraphing his movements. Bucky knees the big guy in the crotch, pushing him aside and raising both eyebrows at the rest. 

"Alright, who's next?" 

\- 

It takes about two minutes, the last one going down when Pat takes an extra-large bottle of Listerine to his head. 

Bucky whistles lowly. "Nice swing, pal." 

"I used to play baseball," Pat says, beaming widely. 

The next second, the cops are through the door. 

\- 

"You lost. You lost so very badly," Sharon says, tossing the key to the handcuffs currently holding him to the handle of a cop car up in the air a couple of times before tossing it at him. Bucky catches the key with his metal hand and twists it around to undo the cuffs. 

Bucky could've just broken out of them by now, sure, because what part of metal arm did they not understand but not cooperating would just make this take a hell of a lot longer. 

"Pretty sure I burned my lasagna too," Bucky says, tossing the flimsy handcuffs aside to sit down next to Sharon on the curb. "Didn't know that the CIA made house calls." 

"Steve called me," Sharon says with a shrug. "Gave me an excuse to gloat in person." 

"Re-match tomorrow?" 

"You're on, Barnes." 

Bucky cranes his neck around to look at the CVS. "Think it's too late to buy what I came for?" 

Sharon rolls her eyes, digging into her suit jacket pocket to pull out a small, slim tube and dropping it into Bucky's lap. "That was ten bucks, you owe me a donut or something." 

"How did you -- " 

"I watched the security tapes." 

Bucky shakes his head, tossing Sharon a small, sly grateful grin. "Do we tell Steve about this?" 

"Only if you take a picture of his face when you do it." 

"Deal." 

\- 

He was right, he burned the lasagna.

**Author's Note:**

> i am obviously in no way affiliated with cvs pharmacy it's just that you know, there is one right near where steve's apartment was in tws. also nearby: a krispy kreme.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] 'cause i'm lightning on my feet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8910262) by [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins)




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